Asphyxiation
by Fairytale Warrior
Summary: "A heart monitor eventually displayed all Dipper's vital signs, the numbers looking way too high to be healthy. The kid's heartrate fluttered too fast, he was taking too many breaths a minute, and he was way, way, way too damn small in that bed." And expansion of 93 Days of Summer, chapter 6.


_What do you mean I don't have time to be writing right now?_

 _(This is RisingSm0ke's fault. I don't have time for this but here I go anyway. She's a monster, guys, help me.)_

~Asphyxiation~

 _[Expansion of_ Dust _from_ 93 Days of Summer _]_

 _[2:06AM – Mystery Shack – Attic]_

 _[Dipper Pines]_

It was some gross hour of the morning when Dipper very slowly came back to lucidity. Lying on his back he felt the weight of overuse, exhaustion, and stress in every ache. His body felt heavy and he didn't have the energy to move so he kept his eyes closed, face turned into the pillow, and hand resting a few inches from his nose.

However, the weight on his lungs became steadily harder to ignore the longer he refused to move. Eventually the effort to pull in each breath summoned enough energy to prompt his eyes open and the lids slid up on their own.

Across the room Mabel's sleeping form was illuminated by the glow of the moon; rolled onto her side with her mouth wide open and a pool of drool soaked into the pillow. She'd spent the last 9 hours with Candy and Grenda on a "girl's day out" doing who-knows-what with god-knows-who.

Dipper, left to his own devices, had decided to go monster hunting in the woods. Leading those gremlins back to the shack had been an honest mistake and one not soon to be forgotten with the damage they'd left behind. By Grunkle Stan's orders he'd spent the entire day kicking up dust and cleaning, mending, or replacing everything that had been damaged.

Laying there and wheezing he remembered, in a stupidly belated fashion, his allergy to dust. Of all the things to set his asthma off none wore the gold star of guarantee better than a good dust bunny.

Yet even knowing that he was in what the doctors would call the "yellow zone" and should be given emergency medication Dipper just couldn't work up the energy to do anything about it.

In fact, the child was so exhausted he managed to fall back into the bliss of sleep even with the threat of asphyxiation tightening his lungs.

"Dipper?"

The familiar voice was hardly strong enough to cut through the thickness of his sleep.

"Dipper?! H-hey, brobro this isn't funny stop playing around…."

* * *

 _[2:11 AM – Mystery Shack – 1_ _st_ _Floor]_

 _[Stan Pines]_

Stan didn't usually get much sleep at night- typically stuck between a project and a stubborn wall of thought stirred up by his inactivity- so he wasn't too impressed to wake up via Mabel's incessant shouting.

"Grunkle Stan!" she cried and he groaned, "Grunkle Stan, wake up!"

The old man huffed and turned away, "Not now kid. Morning."

Mabel didn't stop, however, " _Please_ , I need your help! I-I think Dipper's suffocating!"

"What?!" the genuine distress in his niece's voice had him sliding into his slippers in a heartbeat and before he knew it he was following her down the hall as fast as his aching joints would let him. "What happened?"

"I don't know I just woke up to this weird sound," she took the stairs two at a time, "then I saw Dipper and he- he…." Standing on the landing and waiting for her uncle to catch up Mabel wrung her nightgown out with little fists, biting her lip, and glancing over her shoulder. At long last Grunkle Stan caught up with her and hurried into the attic without a second of further preamble, his old body finally getting the memo.

He could hear his nephew's strained gasps from the doorway and instantly understood Mabel's fear- almost freezing up himself at the sound. He'd heard men choking before, several times in fact, but this wasn't just a different shade it was a different color all together- It wasn't just that Dipper was a preteen, it was that the kid was his _nephew._

With every inhalation Dipper took, several squeaks and chirps popped above the softer wheezes until it peaked at his best imitation of a full breath. Every exhale was audible as one long, uninterrupted whistle. Stan couldn't decide what the sounds resembled more; the gasps of a man choking to death on toxic fumes or the tight, dying wheezes of an individual sucking in his last few breaths.

Dipper's head was feebly pressed back into the sheets, the pale length of his straining throat visible in the moonlight. It seemed all his energy was consumed by the tightness of his fists, clenched around the sheets like he'd fall if he didn't hold on hard enough. Stan had to bite down on his tongue to stop himself from swearing. With long strides he moved to his nephew's bedside and crouched down, Mabel hovering just over his shoulder.

It looked like every muscle in Dipper's throat was taut. His mouth opened wider with every inhale and relaxed with every exhale. Stan wasn't sure if he was unconscious or sleeping but decided it didn't matter.

He reached out and awkwardly patted his nephew's upper chest, just below his clavicle on the left side, "Oy, kid, wake up."

Dipper didn't stir.

Furrowing his brow Stan patted the side of his face lightly, "Uh, Dipper, come on. It's time to wake up now." A slight change in his expression told Stan that at least part of what he'd said had been heard.

"Dipper?" Mabel tried this time but had about as much success.

Swallowing uncomfortably, worried that he'd hurt his nephew more than anything else, Stan reached out and grabbed Dipper's hand. With gentle persuasion he uncurled his desperate fist and awkwardly let the child clutch his fingers with the same amount of desperation as before. With his free hand he pulled the sheets down to Dipper's hips, uncovering his chest.

"Mabel get the light," he ordered clasping the hem of his nephew's shirt and raising it up. They both grimaced when the lamp on the nightstand flickered to life, squinting through the adjustment. Dipper's expression tightened and he turned his head away only to find the new position made his battle harder and rolling his head back into its initial spot.

Concern growing, Grunkle Stan watched Dipper's stomach and chest move in a wave-like motion. After each and every exhale his stomach seemed to convulse inwards before relaxing as his chest rose, then tensing, and then convulsing again.

"Okay," he grunted after a moment spent watching, "Mabel put your shoes on and meet me by the car."

His niece was already pulling a sweater over her head when she asked, "Where are we going?"

Freeing his hand Stan slid his arms underneath Dipper- one below his shoulder blades, one below his knees- and watched the child's joints roll bonelessly as he lifted him up. There was no resistance in him at all at first and Stan's fear spiked into a new gear. But a moment later and with a dry, rattling, raspy wheeze, Dipper shifted in his arms.

"Woah there kiddo," he warned when the child kicked out a leg and tossed his head, bumping it against the elder's chest, "Just relax. We're gunna fix you up." Mabel crammed her feet into a pair of open black shoes and followed him out the door.

At long last Dipper seemed to, at least partially, return to the world of the living. His eyelids pulled back halfway revealing hazy brown irises. Though his eyes were now open all Dipper did was stare straight ahead in an unseeing line. The crown of his head rested against Grunkle Stan's collar bone, his arms folded over his chest now tangled his shirt; the energetic jerk of every inhalation and exhausted sigh of every exhalation struck Stan as hard as his fluttering pulse as he carried his nephew down the stairs. He could _feel_ Dipper wheezing through his shirt and wondered if he should call an ambulance instead.

 _No,_ he shook the thought away and watched Mabel run off to fetch his keys for him, _I'll be able to drive way faster than those idiots._

"Dipper?" he asked, looking down at him, "you holdin' up okay?" The child didn't even blink in acknowledgement for the first 30 seconds. "Dip?" Dipper slowly and shakily pulled his head back to see his grunkle's face but shortly after meeting his eyes it fell forward again- the effort to keep it back requiring more energy than he had to give. "Alright, alright- you're going to be fine," he muttered, moving towards the door without bothering to find proper shoes.

From his peripheral vision he saw a flutter of movement upstairs, outside the bathroom. A part of him swelled with confusion at the unclear sight of Mable standing there but not even a second later he forgot about it, focused on Dipper coughing violently in his arms.

Faster than Stan could blink a pink little shooting star was throwing the door open and- after letting Stan and her brother go through first- running out to the car. With her help they got Dipper secure and lying supinely across the seats with his head in Mabel's lap. Screaming away from the Mystery Shack he glanced at his rearview mirror to the children buckled up in the back. Dipper was trying to arch his neck again- fists clenched around his shirt so tightly his knuckles had gone white- but it seemed to take more energy than he had to maintain the position. Above him Mabel's eyes looked a little red, locked on her brother's face while her fingers absently petted her brother's hair.

 _Hang tight, kid, you're gunna be alright. I'll make sure of it._

* * *

 _[2:56 AM - ? - ?]_

 _[Dipper Pines]_

Dipper slid in and out of consciousness. He wasn't quite sure if he was mostly awake or mostly asleep as the scenery around him continued changing. Having seen two Mabel's already he wanted to say asleep – or very delirious.

The first time he woke up feeling stuffy, exhausted and unable to breathe.

The second time he woke up feeling stuffy, hot, exhausted and unable to breathe.

The third time he woke up feeling stuffy, hot, uncomfortable, exhausted and unable to breathe.

The fourth time he woke up feeling stuffy, hot, uncomfortable, nauseous, exhausted and unable to breathe.

He might've lost count but he was pretty sure this was the fifth time now.

There was a rumbling sound around him and uncomfortable leather cushions beneath him. A buckle was poking his back. Streetlights flashed past above him, the cabin flickering between light and dark.

Something wet hit him in the face, startling him even though he didn't have the energy to flinch.

"Dipper?" at last his eyes registered Mabel's presence and twitched to the side to meet her worried gaze.

"Meh," he heaved in more air, wanting nothing more than to sleep without interruption, "balh?

"Yeah, bro-bro," she smiled wetly, "I'm here."

It was hard to keep his eyes open, the lids bobbing up and down like buoys in a lake. He desperately wanted to sleep…

"C'n," he panted, "Sleep?"

She furrowed her brow.

"What was that, bro?"

He spent a moment or two trying to catch his breath.

"C'n ehy-" he panted miserably, "-sheep now?" he gasped and knew he wouldn't be able to speak again, hoping his sister understood him.

Now she looked even more concerned than before, "No, Dipper, you need to stay awake."

His eyes closed.

"Nooo," she denied him, pulling one eyelid back up with her index finger and thumb, "stay here, Dipper. Don't you go anywhere."

" _Tell him about something,_ _"_ a voice suggested in the distance. Dipper gasped as the car bumped over a pothole, _"_ _We're almost there._ _"_

"Uh," for maybe the first time in forever Mabel looked as though she didn't know what to say, "U-um I-"

But Dipper's eye fell closed, as his other already shut, and before he could be hooked on some ridiculous story Mabel conjured he was out.

* * *

 _[? - ? - ?]_

 _[Dipper Pines]_

Cold night air whooshed over his face and arms and legs and got caught in his lungs like hooks. His head was as far back as he could make it go and he trembled like the last leaf of fall. The surface beneath him vanished, replaced by cold air and two branches. He was lifted until his left side was pressed against a soft wall.

Words were exchanged above him- _"Mabel, go open the door!" "On it Grunkle Stan!" –_ then he was moving again, this time clutched in his uncle's arms. His pace was fast and wind blew across Dipper's forehead, sweeping across his skin.

He was curled against Stan's chest but the position did nothing to help his breathing and a tiny mewl of protest strained to escape him. He squirmed feebly at first, desperate to suck in air but it was no use.

 _-breathe!_ He thought, mouth open and head back, jaw stretched wide, sweat crawling over his skin, _Please, just let me breathe!_

"I need a doctor!"

* * *

 _[3:01 AM – Lone Elder Forest – Northwood Emergency Center]_

 _[Stan Pines]_

It took almost an hour and a half to drive from Gravity Falls to the next town over and Stan cursed everything for it. Even driving 75 to 80 mph the entire time it had still taken him more than 45 minutes. There was a doctor in the town on the opposite side of Gravity Falls he could've gotten to in the same amount of time going the speed limit but Stan hadn't wanted to waste a second if the man didn't have the equipment he needed.

At this point it seemed to take all of his nephew's energy just to heave in each inhale, his thin chest pumping but his hands no longer clutching his shirt. He'd tried throwing his head back at first and now it dangled over Stan's arm, lolling back and forth as lifelessly as the rest of him. Dipper was left completely limp and Stan wondered fretfully if he was anywhere near consciousness anymore.

Hauling Dipper through the door Mabel held open he shouted almost hysterically, "I need a doctor!"

The nurse behind the desk almost jumped three feet in the air- whether it was because of his abrupt shout or the sight of the child clasped in his arms and pale as freshly washed linen, it was hard to tell. She rapidly typed something into her computer before standing up.

She hurried over to them as the door fell shut and very briskly looked at the bundle Stan held with an organized, no-nonsense expression. Mabel's fingers unconsciously clutched Stan's pant leg as she watched from below.

"Please, nurse, something's wrong with him," he begged, "I don't know what to do."

Empathy grew into her expression but she didn't give him any reassuring smiles, "come with me." Stan followed her across the lobby, keeping up with her brisk pace as she led him down a hall, "What are his symptoms, sir?"

"I-I don't know. He can't breathe well, he's been having trouble staying awake, he's been kinda zombie-like for-" he glanced at Mabel.

"At least an hour," she said.

A moment and a half later the three stood in a small room with an elevated bed, "Please place him there," she said and gestured to the white sheets. With all the caution of a person setting down a shattered porcelain doll that had been mended with a glue stick Grunkle Stan laid Dipper's limp body down. It was sickening to watch his joints rolling so easily underneath his skin, like they were loose and would swing around with the right gesture.

"My name is Eliza Ricket," she said and, across from the bed pulled out a clipboard, pen, and several sheets of paper, "a few more nurses will be here soon to help so in the meantime…"

"What are you-" Stan began, convinced that his nephew needed _immediate_ medical attention.

"I cannot treat him without knowing what his allergies are. We'll get this done quickly, I promise it won't take more than a second."

 _Yes it will,_ he thought with a growing sense of horror, _I haven't the slightest clue what this kid's medical history is like-_

"-he's not allergic to any medication!" Mabel burst out, "but he's got a very small allergy to apricots." The nurse began scribbling this information in on the sheet in front of her, "His name is Dipper Pines, he's twelve years old, and when we were nine he fell out of a tree and broke his arm."

"Has your brother ever had surgery before?" the nurse asked.

"No," Mabel stood beside Dipper, grasping his hand like he might disappear in moments.

"Thank you, sweetie," then she held the clipboard out to Stan, "Sir, I need you to sign these. Please fill out the rest of it while I get started."

Relieved, he snatched the clipboard and pen and, for the first time since middle-school, didn't read a damn thing before signing his name. Meanwhile the nurse had pulled out a stethoscope and was tucking it underneath Dipper's shirt. She was listening to his other lung when the door opened and two more nurses came inside.

Stan stepped back, dragging Mabel with him so they had room to work. One of them fiddled with some buttons on the headboard above Dipper and another brought out some tubes.

"Nancy, please check the capsule of SIS. It's been a while since we've had a patient with asthma this bad."

The brunette named Nancy flipped back a cover below the cords her companion was sticking into the headboard and analyzed the ampoule inside.

"What's the dosage?"

"83%."

"Good." The first nurse wrote this in on a second sheet of paper she'd withdrawn while the third extracted an oxygen mask from one of the upper cupboards. The nurse examined the mask before attaching the tubes she'd stuck in the headboard to it. Nancy wrapped a cuff around Dipper's upper arm, squeezing the pump attached until it formed a sufficient amount of pressure. She read the meter, giving it a moment to settle first, "137 over 84 mmHg." The numbers where written down while more wires were hooked up to Dipper's gasping, wheezing, dying body.

A heart monitor eventually displayed all his vital signs, the numbers all looking way too high to be healthy. The kid's heartrate fluttered too fast, he was taking too many breaths a minute, and he was way, _way,_ _ **way**_ too damn small in that bed.

Eliza slipped the breathing mask over Dipper's face, his neck limp, and head rolling in her palm.

"Kendrick please switch the nebulizer on now."

The third nurse- a small red-head – did as she was asked and pressed a button on the headboard. A humming sound filled the room and suddenly a white gaseous substance began to fill the breathing mask.

"Alright," Eliza nodded, satisfied, "let's get him changed and then move him upstairs." She turned to the Pines family waiting anxiously by the door, "I have a feeling he's going to need a bigger room."

* * *

 _[ 6:59 AM - Lone Elder Forest – Northwood Emergency Center]_

 _[Stan Pines]_

Stan leaned back in his creaky chair with a long sigh, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Some hours ago, shortly after Mabel had crawled into Dipper's bed to sleep beside him, he'd passed out in this surprisingly comfortable hospital chair. The nurses must have come in at some point during the night because he had a blanket draped over his chest and the humming of Dipper's bed had grown quieter. He couldn't see anything filling his nephew's breathing mask anymore but knew better than to try and remove it.

To his immense relief Dipper's breathing had evened out and his brow was smooth again. He savored each and every smooth inhale and committed the gentleness of all the exhales that followed to memory. He'd never in all his years been so content to watch a child breathe.

Minutes passed by and he didn't get up, simply staring at Dipper's face. He'd tried to call the boy's parents last night but they hadn't picked up the phone. He realized suddenly that it might be wise to try again and with a reluctant groan, forced himself to stand.

"Aw-ow- everything hurts," he moaned, bending a crick out of his back. At the door he glanced back at the twins before carrying on, gently shutting it behind him.

To his immense irritation Mr. and Mrs. Pines once again let the phone go to voicemail. He left them a short message, updating them on their son's condition before hanging up and dialing a different number.

The fact that Soos picked up the phone when even the child's _parents_ wouldn't said a great deal to Stan Pines.

"Mr. Pines!" the man-child cried, answering after the second ring, "Are you okay?! I came to work this morning but no-one's here!"

Heaving a sigh and rubbing a hand against his eyes he said, "Look, Soos, I need you to watch the shack for me while we're out. Something happened to Dipper last night so Mabel and I took him to the hospital-"

"Oh _man, oh no, oh man, oh no,_ " Soos fretted and, by the sounds of things, almost dropped the receiver, "I-is he ok?"

"He's f-"

"Mr. Pines what happened to him?"

"He had a really b-"

"Are you guys at the Emergency Center in Lone Elder?"

"Y-"

"I'll be there in an hour, don't you worry Mr. Pines!"

" _Soos!_ " he finally shouted. His handyman was struck with silence, giving his boss the time he needed to answer all his questions. "Look, the doctors say Dipper is going to be fine but they want to keep him for observation for a while. _Apparently_ he's got a severe allergy to dust or something and cleaning the shack yesterday gave him an asthma attack. But instead of telling anyone about it the dumb kid just shrugged it off and went to bed."

Sighing heavily Stan leaned against the counter, thankful that whoever was usually stationed at the receptionist's desk on this floor was somewhere else. "According to the doctors this isn't a first time thing either, the kid must have been having attacks all summer and didn't tell anyone. I think I might have even _heard_ him wheezing a few times- the sound was so high pitched, though, that I mistook it for a _cat!"_ Catching himself before he could begin wringing his heart out he sighed again, "Look, Soos, I just need you to watch the shack while Mabel and I look after Dipper, ok? Gideon's still trying to steal the deed and I don't want to have to send the kids home at a time like this. We're going to spend the day at Northwood Emergency Center but should be back by tonight. If anything changes I'll let you know. Got it?"

"Yes sir, Mr. Pines. I'll watch this place like a hawk!" the enthusiasm in Soos's voice was both touching and nerve-wracking at the same time.

"Just-" he hesitated, "Just call me if anything goes wrong, okay?"

"Like a _hawk!_ " Soos insisted.

"Okay. Good. Well. I'm going to go get something to eat now- see if this dumb place has anything that is actually edible. Talk to ya later, Soos."

"Bye- oh, and Mr. Pines?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for calling in."

Surprised, Stan blinked. It was awfully mature of Soos to be grateful for something so mundane- he must really care for the twins. With a twinge in his gut and a darkening look on his face he thought of their parents.

"No problem, Soos. Now get to work."

Then he hung up, never noticing the weak smile split across a familiar face from around the corner at the end of the hall.

* * *

 _[7:45 PM – Lone Elder Forest – Northwood Emergency Center]_

 _[Dipper Pines]_

Dipper woke up feeling a little funny. He could breathe much easier than before but his muscles were sore and there was a spot nestled into the crook of his right arm that felt bruised. A large hand grasped his in a gentle grip, swirling small circles into his wrist comfortingly.

A bag crackled noisily nearby, the crunch of chips being devoured following suit.

The flip of a glossy magazine page turning fluttered from his other side.

No-one spoke.

Then, "Grunkle Stan?" He recognized Mabel's loud voice and sucked in a deep, contented breath, rolling his shoulders back into the mattress underneath. He must have fallen asleep on the couch or something because the cushions beneath him were nowhere near as lumpy as what was on his bed in the attic.

Again, there was silence. As though his family was waiting for him to open his eyes.

"Dip?"

"Mmm," he hummed, wanting to sleep.

"…Dipper?" Movement sounded from nearby, footsteps approaching until they stopped at his bedside. "Dipper?" Mabel asked again, "Are you awake?"

"No," he moaned, turning over and dragging a few cords with him, "Never. Let me sleep forever."

"Dipper!" his sister's delighted squeal cracked through the quiet like an angry bird and thrust him rather rudely to consciousness.

Jackknifing upwards he gasped, looking around wildly before familiar arms had wrapped around him.

"You're okay!" relief and joy were prominent in her voice as she pressed her face against his shoulder.

"W-what…?!" he looked around him- taking in the white walls, white floor, and cream-colored sheets- "Where- what happened?!"

"Woah, easy there kid," Grunkle Stan leaned forward and set a large hand on Mabel's shoulder to gently pull her back, "Give your brother some space." His sister leaned away but didn't drag herself off the bed. Stan then turned his attention to his nephew, "How do you feel, kiddo? Is your breathing alright now?"

Shakily, Dipper nodded, still horribly confused. His grunkle set a magazine down on the nightstand and sighed wearily- for the first time that summer looking as old as he was- and began to explain.

"Dipper, you had a very severe asthma attack last night. Gravity Falls is so dumb that it doesn't have a hospital so Mabel and I brought you to the one at the next town over. For the past 14 hours or so you've been sleeping," he scratched the back of his head and yawned, "the doctor's pumped ya up with steroids though and said you'd be fine to leave when you woke up. We'll need to take some meds with us before we go, though." Dipper's brow pinched a bit as he thought back, remembering blurred bits and pieces of what had happened.

"O-oh," he muttered, feeling a little sick. He'd never been as dazed as that in his life before- nor had he ever come so close to suffocating to death. His right hand, the one without the heart monitor clipped to his index finger, was buried inside both of Mabel's.

Concern flew across his expression when he noticed the pricks of tears in her eyes, "W-woah, Mabel?! What's wrong, what-"

"We almost lost you, Dipper," She breathed, puffing out her cheeks to try and stem the increasing flow of tears, "We almost lost you to _yourself_. Monsters are easy- all we have to do is fight them off and bandage up! But how are we supposed to fix you if the problem is _inside_ you?" Looking down at his hand she fiddled with his pale fingers, "I thought you said you're asthmia-"

"Asthma," Dipper corrected compulsively,

"-had gotten _better._ " She paused, chewing on her bottom lip, "What would have happened to you if I hadn't woken up?"

"Hey," his voice dropped and reached out for her, "Hey, hey, hey, Mabel relax. Look, I'm totally okay now! See?" He held out his arms and took a deep breath, "No trouble breathing at all!"

"Yeah," Grunkle Stan agreed, "your brother is one of the Pines. Only a real monster could bring any of us down for good!"

"And besides, I finally got some sleep, didn't I?" Dipper joked. He smiled at her as best as he could, "I mean- 14 hours straight? I think that might be more sleep than I get in a single week!"

"Hehehe," Mabel laughed a little, "yeah it probably is."

As the three of them joked and comforted each other a small figure stood outside the door, listening.

She was familiar, perfectly reminiscent of the 12 year old girl sitting on her brother's bed and learning to be thankful that he was alive through much happier means than she had. Tears streamed freely down her face; pudgy cheeks swelled out, chin wrinkled, brows drawn tightly together. Tiny, muffled hiccups escaped her despite her best efforts and she held a small box against her chest.

Further inspection showed that it was a little yellow tape-measure with the outline of an hourglass drawn on its cover…

" _I saved him,"_ she whispered, leaning back and glancing into the room. A memory flashed through her mind of waking up to find her brother pale, motionless, and cold in the bed beside hers. A lump formed in her throat.

 _"I saved him this time."_

* * *

 _Aaaaand I'm a jerk. ;)_

 _Cheers!_


End file.
